Off with your girdle, make a handsome noose; [ITHAMORE _makes a noose in his girdle. They put it round the_ Friar's _neck._ Friar, awake!

_F. Barn._ What, do you mean to strangle me?

_Itha._ Yes, 'cause you use to confess.

_Bar._ Blame not us but the proverb, confess and be hanged; pull hard.

_F. Barn._ What, will you have[114] my life? 20

_Bar._ Pull hard, I say; you would have had my goods.

_Itha._ I, and our lives too, therefore pull amain.

[_They strangle him._ 'Tis neatly done, sir, here's no print at all.

_Bar._ Then it is as it should be; take him up.

_Itha._ Nay, master, be ruled by me a little[_Stands up the body_]; so, let him lean upon his staff; excellent! he stands as if he were begging of bacon.

_Bar._ Who would not think but that this friar lived?

What time o' night is't now, sweet Ithamore?

_Itha._ Towards one. 30

_Bar._ Then will not Jacomo be long from hence.

[_Exeunt._

SCENE III.

_Enter_[115] Friar JACOMO.

_F. Jac._ This is the hour wherein I shall proceed; O happy hour,[116] wherein I shall convert An infidel, and bring his gold into our treasury!

But soft, is not this Barnardine? it is; And, understanding I should come this way, Stands here a purpose, meaning me some wrong, And intercept my going to the Jew.

Barnardine!

Wilt thou not speak? thou think'st I see thee not; Away, I'd wish thee, and let me go by: 10 No, wilt thou not? nay, then, I'll force my way; And see, a staff stands ready for the purpose: As thou lik'st that, stop me another time.

[_Strikes him and he falls._

_Enter_ BARABAS _and_ ITHAMORE.

_Bar._ Why, how now, Jacomo, what hast thou done?

_F. Jac._ Why, stricken him that would have struck at me.

_Bar._ Who is it?

Barnardine? now out, alas! he's slain.

_Itha._ I, master, he's slain; look how his brains drop out on's nose.

_F. Jac._ Good sirs, I have done't, but n.o.body knows it but you two--I may escape. 21

_Bar._ So might my man and I hang with you for company.

_Itha._ No, let us bear him to the magistrates.

_F. Jac._ Good Barabas, let me go.

_Bar._ No, pardon me; the law must have its course.

I must be forced to give in evidence, That being importuned by this Barnardine To be a Christian, I shut him out, And there he sat: now I, to keep my word, 30 And give my goods and substance to your house, Was up thus early; with intent to go Unto your friary, because you stayed.

_Itha._ Fie upon 'em, master; will you turn Christian when holy friars turn devils and murder one another?

_Bar._ No, for this example I'll remain a Jew: Heaven bless me; what! a friar a murderer?

When shall you see a Jew commit the like?

_Itha._ Why, a Turk could ha' done no more.

_Bar._ To-morrow is the sessions; you shall to it. 40 Come, Ithamore, let's help to take him hence.

_F. Jac._ Villains, I am a sacred person; touch me not.

_Bar._ The law shall touch you, we'll but lead you, we: 'Las I could weep at your calamity.

Take in the staff too, for that must be shown: Law wills that each particular be known.

[_Exeunt._

SCENE IV.

_Enter_[117] BELLAMIRA _and_ PILIA-BORSA.

_Bell._ Pilia-Borsa, did'st thou meet with Ithamore?

_Pilia._ I did.

_Bell._ And didst thou deliver my letter?

_Pilia._ I did.

_Bell._ And what think'st thou? will he come?

_Pilia._ I think so, but yet I cannot tell; for at the reading of the letter he look'd like a man of another world.

_Bell._ Why so?

_Pilia._ That such a base slave as he should be saluted by such a tall man as I am, from such a beautiful dame as you. 12

_Bell._ And what said he?

_Pilia._ Not a wise word, only gave me a nod, as who should say, "Is it even so;" and so I left him, being driven to a non-plus at the critical aspect of my terrible countenance.